Chapter Forty-Two
Chelsea didn’t know how to process Liam’s fear of losing her. Rejoice that I mean that much? Hurt that he’s suffered so greatly?
Liam stayed quiet.
“You’re not going to lose me,” she whispered. “Not like your mom or Julia.”
“I know.”
He paced the living room. An internal war was waged as his hulking shoulders bunched and tendons strained.
“What’s bothering you? That I’m asking you to share more?”
She received no reply, and he continued his transfixed pace.
“Liam?”
He stopped short. “I don’t trust my source.”
Her pulse jumped. “Yet we broke into—”
“No, I trust Chance and Hagan. They arranged this. But the source of this entire clusterfuck? I don’t know.”
Chelsea hated feeling like an outsider. Mac had made her feel that way, and Liam didn’t trust her enough with classified intel that Chance and his buddy seemed to have. “Okay.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “I told you before. It’s complicated.”
“And classified.” Which meant she should understand, but being the last one to know seriously stunk.
He closed their distance. “My source is Samantha Sorenson.”
“Senator Sorenson?” she asked as though if she whispered too loudly, the power-hungry politician might materialize out of thin air.
Chelsea didn’t know much about who and what qualified as the topic du jour.
She avoided politicians and stuck with central beliefs.
When it came time to cast a vote, she wanted to know who checked her personal boxes, not who joined a political party.
She didn’t listen to talking heads, radio pundits, or people paid to pontificate.
But even Chelsea knew that Sorenson thrived in the capital’s shark-eat-shark world.
“I don’t trust her,” he finally said.
“And I don’t blame you.” She eased against his chest, grateful that he always stepped forward when conversations became hard.
Liam wrapped his arms around her, and they swayed in the stranger’s sterile living room as Chelsea tried to make a connection between what they were doing, what happened last year with Julia, and Senator Sorenson. This situation was far beyond one she could dream up. “I’m sorry I pushed you.”
“No one else knows about her, and it’s best to keep her between us.”
“Of course—this is really bad, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know about bad, but it’s complicated.” He held her tightly. “We’ll get through this, then we can just…”
“Be.”
He sighed and gave her another squeeze.
Whenever that day came, when they didn’t have to worry about the Nymans’ house blowing up, sneaking into empty homes for sale, or even her problems with Mac and Calhoun, she couldn’t wait.
Chelsea had no doubt that the hiccups they encountered and hills they climbed over would lead to an understanding she couldn’t yet comprehend. Now those were some relationship goals.
The next morning arrived far, far too early courtesy of Chelsea’s cell phone vibrating until she woke nauseous. Apparently her aversion to phone calls had reached the point that her stomach turned, because waking up early had always been her habit.
The phone stopped vibrating, and the swell of queasiness subsided. Or maybe waking up, locked against Liam, was enough to melt a stressful stomachache away. Either way, she rubbed her eyes and wanted to keep sleeping.
Suddenly, Chelsea panicked and opened her eyes wide. They weren’t in her bedroom, and it wasn’t his either. Realization dawned. Their night had turned them into real estate squatters.
“I promise.” Liam skimmed his palm over her hip and stomach. “No one will bother us. Don’t freak out.”
Maybe that was easy for him. Who knew the places his career had asked him to bed down. But she didn’t sleep in places that she broke into, even if they had the approval of Senator Sorenson.
“Sunshine,” he whispered, “I promise.”
She clung to his promise. He wouldn’t lead her astray.
Then her cell phone buzzed again and her stomach turned. Could it be Mac? Maybe there’d been another situation with Zee Zee? Chelsea’s normal rules for ignoring phone calls were put on hold when they came at the break of dawn.
Liam groaned as she made a half-hearted attempt to reach her purse without pulling from his arm. That didn’t work—and he wedged his leg between hers. The coarse hairs felt rough against her skin, reviving parts of her that she thought might never feel unsatisfied again.
Last night… The memory of how they made love caused her to shiver.
He kissed the back of her head, and her thoughts of the work she was barred from dwindled away.
Until the phone buzzed again.
“Make it stop.” He moved her hair and caressed the back of her neck with a kiss that dared her to do so by answering the call. He nibbled again, and her nipples perked.
“You have to give me a little room to reach my purse.”
Liam growled then rolled away. “Someone better have a damn good reason.”
A chill slipped across her naked limbs, and she concurred when she found her phone. “It’s Mac.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Liam turned over and buried his face in the pillow as she answered it.
“Hello?”
It took Mac all of two seconds to greet her and demand she come help him at the office.
Of course he needed her help. No one could come close to her Mars expertise. But their previous discussion had been about as good as this one, short-tempered and bossy. Mac ended the call almost as quickly as he made his demand for her to work.
Annoyance tinged with good old-fashioned aggravation. “I have to go in.”
“The hell you do.” Liam rolled to face her. “You’re on leave. Forced leave.”
She couldn’t deny the truth, but she also wanted to get back to work. “Even more of a reason to head in. I can remind Calhoun who is actually the brains behind this investigation.” And point out that she wasn’t intoxicated. But bringing that up would only cause more frustration.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Fine.”
“I’m pouting too. Trust me.” Leaving Liam naked in a bed was at the bottom of her to-do list.
“I’ll drive you.” He sat up then raked his gaze across her bare breasts and stomach. “After we finish in bed.”
That was a compromise she couldn’t refuse.